Foller down, foller down with your peavies on
your backs,
For the herd that runs ahead of us goes loafin’
’less it’s chased.
They know they’re off to market, an’ they dread
the saw an’ axe,
An’ you’ve got to go and welt ’em, though the
water’s to your waist,
For they balk on Depsconneagon when a sixty-
footer halts;